~ The lofty side of this is that I am a mom on a mission. I am striving to create a better world by being the best, most inner-directed mother I know how to be. The other side of this is that I became a mom… on purpose. Meaning, I chose this. But man, it can be hard.

Category Archives: Musings of a Manic Mama

I feel kind of like an athlete who has neglected to work out for months on end, complete with that weird, almost-insurmountable obstacle of taking the first step. *Ugh* Why is it that it can be so hard to get your butt to the gym, or outside for a jog after a span of time has passed? Is it just me, or is it like drudging through sludge and every step weighs me down…?

That is, UNTIL I actually get moving. Blood gets pumping, muscles start moving, and each and every time – without exception – I feel great and wonder “What took me so long?!”

Anyone relate??

Well, I feel that exact same way about blogging. I am embarrassed to say it has been over two months since I last sat down to write. I haven’t had writer’s block, but my mind has been stuck in sludge when it comes to putting pen to paper. It’s seems that the longer I wait between blogs, the more I think that whatever topic pops into my head isn’t quite worthy of being the one following such a drought.

Any writers in the crowd agree??

Two months is a long time to cover. There have been many times that moments have been ‘blog-worthy’ – anything from challenges we are having with our kids, to simple moments that make my heart glow.

In the past two months, we have renovated our house in order to open my new practice. I have learned that I despise – DESPISE! – painting ceilings, and that fire code regulations for a home-based business create a tonne of extra work. I have seen my husband work 12-16 hour days to build me the practice space of my dreams, watching in awe and appreciation, while able to offer pretty minimal help from my limited skill set.

The Lifehouse is NOW OPEN!!

I have opened my doors to start providing care to families in my area and have met with local businesses, organizations, and individuals to form new collaborations to help this community thrive with great health. I have been invited as a guest on TV, and been approached to be on the receiving end of many generous offers for help. Some days there are so many things that happen that my head literally spins.

Our leisurely family breakfast with no effort or clean up from adults!

Our kids have been both wonderful and nerve-wracking. One day they are the epitome of helpful kids and the next are making me tear my hair out. One weekend they delivered me coffee in bed, and made a spectacular breakfast – and yet on my birthday morning couldn’t pull it together without tears and fighting. *sigh*

Our life is good, but crazy. Amongst our year of transition, we have had to cope with a dog whose bladder control is fading, and who has decided she doesn’t like walking on cold surfaces anymore. (Quite an inconvenient combination in the winter months!) Audra has discovered a love of all things organized, and has spent hours on end watching YouTube videos and then cleaning her room. (Trust me, it is spotless and spectacular). Ethan’s room is a disaster – although he doesn’t agree or care. He gets lost in Minecraft building, especially since his recent proposition to earn money to pay for his own web-server – which allows him to build and play online with friends. It is creative and pretty cool – but also stretches my limits for how much electronic time I think he should have. More often than I care to admit these past busy months, our kids have been left to their own devices.

But with living and working from home, we get to have family dinners every night, and we no longer spend hours every week driving to work. We see family often – and sometimes daily. Our nieces and nephew know us, and fill our hearts with joy.

5 of 7 cousins sporting “nanny” hats

In many ways we gave up a lot to move home. We had a good life in Ontario, and with every passing year, our life became more comfortable and predictable. But here we are instead: Starting Over.

I guess you could say we are ‘all in.’

The way I see it, if life is indeed a game, I want to play full out. Safe is nice – but boring. Some days our life is great, exciting and joyful – and others it’s stressful and frustrating. It’s real, messy, and beautiful.

But it’s ours – and we’re in it together – and I wouldn’t change a thing.

It’s Sunday morning at 11am. In years past, I would have already been up for 5+ hours, diapers changed and re-changed, nap times navigated, breakfast and snacks served, activities mediated and rest-time non-existent. I remember wishing occasionally for just one hour – just one – to do something without interruption. Our kids were little, highly needing of our time and attention, and not yet old enough to entertain themselves without our frequent participation, or the maturity to play without the watchful eyes of a parent. They couldn’t yet wipe their own bums, open the fridge for a snack, or play without supervision. Our level of needed-ness was unrelentingly high.

I don’t want to go back to those years – but I sometimes get overwhelmed by how quickly time is flying by and how little-by-little, Ethan and Audra are growing up. It strikes me as the biggest cosmic joke that as moms, we seem to be programmed to want to keep our babies young and close-at-hand, while sometimes wanting to keel over in sheer mental and physical exhaustion.

Nana with Ethan and Audra on a visit in 2006

I’m not the kind of mom who tries to keep our kids small. As a matter of fact, I feel like the job of a mom is one of constantly learning to let go – bit by bit, easing the reins, and letting our kids experience more and more of life. We do our best to let them expand their horizons, test their abilities and prove themselves responsible enough and deserving of new privileges as they get older. I love that they are old enough for us to do things with them that we want to do – like take long hikes, snorkel in deep water, watch exciting movies, explore new places, or have deep conversations. As a matter of fact, I’d choose the company of our two kids over that of many of the adults I’ve met. Our kids are awesome – and lots of fun to be with. With Audra just-turned-9 and Ethan being nearly-11, they are quick simply great company.

Skiing with Ethan, Winter 2014

Snorkelling with Audra, Cuba 2014

But today I find myself on the gazebo in our lush backyard, quietly sipping a coffee, willing myself to appreciate the time I have to myself. Somehow we’ve gone from being so constantly in demand that it was exhausting – to a weekend like this. Ethan has been having the time of his life at a friend’s cottage, while Audra has been at another friend’s house for an extended sleep over for the past 28 hours. And the simple truth is that I miss our kids. Right now, my heart is a little achy as I wait for my family to reconvene around me, filling me up with stories of their great weekend adventures.

Years ago, the idea of letting my kids go hours away for days on end would have been inconceivable. But with the passage of time, those boundaries slowly expand, pushing ever-so-slowly outwards. Maybe I’ll be called crazy for expressing this (that was Dean’s general comment when I expressed my feelings of missing our kids) – but I miss my kids!

Don’t get me wrong – I was happy to let them go. I was happy for them for the great and fun times they would have with their friends. We didn’t consider saying no to their requests for even a moment, and I am looking forward to hearing them joyfully recount what an amazing weekend they have had.

Maybe it’s just getting me at an exceptionally vulnerable moment, but every once in a while I get hit by the overwhelming realization of how quickly time flies. Our kids are growing up so fast. Sometimes it seems like those crazy-busy times of being a parent will never ease, and then I find myself in a quiet house while they play outside with friends, go to the park without me, or walk to school on their own.

Maybe this is amplified by coming on the heels of this being the first week that I wasn’t needed to pick them up after school. For years, they’d ask why some moms picked up their kids every day – while I only could do it two days a week – like they were somehow being slighted. And then this past Wednesday, Audra asked if she could walk home from school with a friend, which Ethan has been doing for a while. “Yesss….” I answered hesitatingly. I had no trepidations about her walking home in our small town – but my mind was processing this unexpected ‘first’- that of not being needed to pick our kids up from school. I wasn’t quite ready for that. (I actually considered going to the school – ‘just for the walk’ – but realized that I would have been doing it for ME – because I wasn’t ready for this step, even though they were.) Instead, I watched the clock as I worked on my computer – noticing when my normal departure-time came and went. And I stayed where I was. Simultaneously feeling how convenient this was as I completed my work – while also feeling a little sad, like something precious was slipping away from me.

Maybe I’m being overly emotional, but my mommy-heart quietly grieves all of the signs of how I am a little less needed in my babies’ lives.

Even with this, there is another part of me that is laughing at myself: “Are you CRAZY, lady?! After all these years of constant work, juggling life as a working mom, mediating being a business owner with caring for our home-life, lacking sleep, and sometimes needing time for ME so badly that I was in near break-down mode?! Don’t you remember all those times?! Don’t you deserve a little break?! Can’t you appreciate this gift of time??”

So yes, I am enjoying my down-time, achy heart included. I had a fantastic date-night with Dean last night: we hit up a local street festival, followed by an amazing steak dinner on a sunny patio, a walk along the Barrie waterfront – and a sleep-in today. I looked at Dean as we drove home, and asked him what he thought our life would be like if we didn’t have kids (this is after he lovingly laughed at my comments about missing them). His truthful answer was that we’d probably travel more, live a more luxurious lifestyle, and have more money – but that ‘he likes having kids’ – and not just any kids: OUR kids. And I couldn’t agree more.

Yes, I may have to re-read this myself on some of those days that I want to pull my hair out with parenting-frustration. I don’t subscribe to the idea that the ‘best years are behind us’. Despite the truth in how being a mom makes me grieve as my kids leave behind more and more of their dependency on us, I can also welcome the new more-mature relationships that are forming in our family. I can laugh at myself for crying over these little things, all while understanding how deeply the roots of these feelings go.

The wiser part of me knows that our kids don’t need me any less than when they were little. They just need me differently. They need us to listen without judgment, to extend our trust a little deeper, and to demonstrate our confidence in them by letting them go just a little farther afield with each passing year. They need to know more than ever that they are loved and accepted by us, even when they falter. They need to know that they can always talk to us – even about the hard things – and that our arms are always open for limitless hugs.

As for me, as a mom of two kids quickly approaching the adolescent years, I feel like the hardest part of the ‘job’ – that of letting them go even more (while holding my breath as they stretch their wings) – is going to be a life-long journey. Maybe this weekend was just a reminder of how far into this process we already are.

Dean with our big kids!

And maybe my job is to have a little more faith in US – in the job that Dean and I have done so far in raising our kids to be the healthy, happy, self-confident individuals that Ethan and Audra are proving themselves to be. Maybe I need to let go and trust that we have been doing a great job – the most important one in the world, in my opinion.

At the end of the day – regardless of how young or old they may be – they will always be my babies. Our babies. (While dads may process this differently, I have trouble believing that this doesn’t affect them, too…) And we will love them the way that only a parent can. Whole-heartedly. In the moment – and for every moment past and future.

I am turning 38 this week. And while I admit to having my own areas of vanity and self-consciousness, I don’t think I have the same degree of hang-ups with my age as many women. Nor do I have any hang-ups with my body shape or size (anymore). It actually floors me to realize that at some point in time in the past decade, I learned to fully and completely accept myself. Flaws and all.

When I was a teenager, I was painfully self-aware and sincerely disliked my body. I wanted to be perfect. My journal was filled with lamenting about stretch marks from growth spurts, disgust at cellulite, and the frustration of having short, thick ‘soccer’ legs. I would run, train, leg lift and more in the attempts to come to terms with the body I had. I actually think that one of the reasons I kept my journals from that young age was so that if I ever had a daughter of my own, I’d remember what it felt like to want to change the body I had.

Now that I am a mom with two young kids, I find myself checking in with them often about how they feel about themselves. So far, their comments reinforce to me that they have a higher degree of self-love and self-acceptance than what I did. But I wasn’t aware of those aspects of myself until the teen years, so I guess a part of me may still be holding my breath, and hoping that we’ve done a good job in teaching our kids those same lessons that I have learned over the course of my adult years:

“I am enough”

“I don’t have to be perfect”

“I am grateful for what I have”

“I am grateful for who I am”

“I love myself”

“I am worthy of love”

Or as Audra has stated, “I’m grateful for being myself.” YES.

I think that time has allowed me to mature, see value in myself in ways I didn’t when I was younger, and to learn to be compassionate with myself. As a recovering perfectionist, this process has been several decades in the making.

When I look in the mirror, I can’t miss seeing the fine lines around my eyes – even when I’m not smiling. I sometimes wonder what magic cream I can find to delay the onset. Wrinkles are not something I was planning on having to deal with. I see the scraggly grey hairs that are beginning to crop up on my head, and I content myself with plucking them out – while wondering if I’ll ever let myself go grey. I find myself plucking facial hairs almost every night – this is just not something I had to do in the past.

I realize that I could be at risk for allowing my earlier obsession with wanting a perfect body to transfer into a new obsession to want to look young forever. I laugh at the fact that I’ve been asked for ID when purchasing alcohol several times in the last few years… but in retrospect, I guess the funny part of it is that I know that there really isn’t any way of me passing for 25, let alone 19. I wonder if the LCBO knew they might get more repeat female customers by having a quota to ID women who are in their 30’s (even when they know that they are indeed old enough). Hmmm…

I guess it comes down to the fact that I have to learn to accept that time is going to pass and that my face and my body will change. And even more importantly, that neither of these attributes defines who I am.

Just to prove it to myself – I took this picture on a whim: post-workout, un-showered, no makeup – I didn’t even have my hair brushed. (I’m not too sure about doing the same in a bathing suit though!)

Maybe I do only have a few years left to feel that I can pull off a bikini … OR I could choose to accept that how I look in one will continue to evolve. AND that maybe it’s my perception of myself that will allow this to happen. Maybe my time of passing for a twenty-something has passed – but the reality is that I wouldn’t trade the experience and wisdom time has given me simply to look a certain way or a certain age.

The fact is that I DON’T HAVE TO BE PERFECT.

Who set those standards, anyways?!

Everyone ages. Everyone wrinkles. Time changes us.

The images we see in the media are simply not reality: most are photo-shopped, as I’m sure many of you have seen in recent videos that have been floating around the internet. And while I was never aware of trying to emulate them, obviously I have still been influenced.

So I am defining my beauty in an un-Hollywood way.

Why should I care what others think of me when it is my own self love that allows me to shine and bring the best of who I am to the world?

I am embracing my age, loving the experience and wisdom that time has given me.

I am remembering that my body created, supported and nurtured two lives. In my children, I see the two most beautiful, natural works-of-art I have ever witnessed. How could I ever do anything BUT love the body and the woman who gave birth to them?!

I am working on loving my imperfections. They are not me.

I AM much more than how I look.

I choose to focus my attention on who I am being each day. I focus on how strong my body has become, celebrating that at age 38, I am in the best shape of my life. I can lift heavier, go faster, and learn new things that I could not do a short two years ago. I appreciate that I have a husband who finds me beautiful and sexy – who tells me so every day – and who supports me in every challenge I face through his certainty that I am fully capable in every thing I do. In these ways and more, Dean has been a key player for me in becoming happy with who I am.

I focus on having great energy, on being able to play full-out with my kids, and for being able to go about my busy life without the constant fear of falling short. I am inspired by the women around me who are older – whether by years or decades – and who continue to push their limits constantly – whether that be in fitness, career, learning or making a difference in this world.

I am inspired by the women who have gone before me – who have been pillars of strength, independence and intelligence, and many times ‘ahead of their time’ (like my MOM and my NANNY).

I look at all the women around me every day – in my practice, in my friends, in the women I work out with, and in my community – and see how beautiful they are in so many ways. Loving, nurturing, giving, strong, confident, courageous – and unique. I see the beauty that lies inside and out and marvel at the wondrous variety that exists.

I see that the world is one of beauty, no matter who the beholder may be.

And that is not a definition that can be put into a picture – even if it were photo-shopped.

I have a confession to make: I have been hibernating. I’ve had so much going on in my life that I think I needed to unplug for a while so that I could process everything. Any outside stimulation was just too much. So for the past few weeks I have been turned inward, which has included somewhat of an online hiatus. As for my blog, I often have thoughts of “that would make a great story”; or “I should share that one on my blog” – but even that has been dialed down.

These days, as my busy life continues to provide a mix of love and joy – and challenge and stress – I often turn inwards. I journal a lot. I talk less. I hug my kids close to my heart – multiple times a day. I breathe. I use Dean as my sounding board, sharing both my dreams – and insecurities and fears.

In the past, if I felt like I had too much going on to handle, I’d find myself disconnecting completely. I’d shut down – which included shutting down from the people around me. I’d ‘numb out’ with food, a glass of wine, or retail therapy. These days, while I may still occasionally reach for a piece of chocolate or a glass of wine, the intentions underlying my actions are entirely different. I am reaching for relaxation, acknowledging my hard work, or rewarding myself because I know that I deserve it. I’ve learned to turn things around so that my actions are ones of nurturing myself, rather than those of running away from whatever I was feeling inside.

Maybe this seems like semantics, or like I’m justifying . The truth is, how I feel inside is entirely different. These same actions – when taken from a place of self worth – leave me feeling uplifted and like I am taking steps (even if they are baby ones) in the right direction. And the absolute most important part of this learning is that I no longer disconnect from the people around me. In fact, I’ve learned that I am far more effective when I do the opposite: I make connecting with the people around me my absolute highest priority.

I make sure that I am 100% present to every person who is in front of me. Some days, this is the sole focus I have for the day. Because while I may need to unplug somewhat from the outside world – that certainly does not mean that I need to unplug from the people in my life. As a matter of fact, the one thing I am most clear on is that the people in my life – my family, my practice, my friends – are what matter the most. And the best way I can be of service to them is to connect, listen, be real, and be fully present to them.

The irony is that when you are fully present to another human being, your own troubles are forgotten. I can’t listen intently to Ethan or Audra as they tell me about their days if I am running through to-do lists in my head. I can’t fully empathize with a person in my practice if I am thinking about myself or my personal life. Perhaps the greatest irony here is that when I let go of my own concerns to be fully present to another human being, once that interaction has come to an end, I find myself in a more purposeful and resourceful state to then effectively deal with my own ‘stuff’. Talk about a win-win situation.

In my practice, I draw strength from the beautiful families who come to see me. I am honoured to hold their children in my hands. I am humbled by the dedication so many have shown to their own health, and for the role they have allowed me to play in their lives. I am honoured every time they refer friends or family in to see me. It is so cliche – but so true: It is indeed the greatest compliment I can be shown.

In my home life, the greatest part of every day is the joy I have in starting and ending each day with heart-felt hugs and special moments of being fully present to my children and husband. For the wisdom to see that without these moments of being fully engaged, I could be at jeopardy of letting my life pass me by. I could miss those special moments when my kids confide in me, make me laugh, or give hugs so full of love that it brings tears to my eyes. In my home, I am so grateful to have a place where I can love and be loved, be strong or need support, feel free to laugh or to cry, and to know that limitless hugs are available both for giving and receiving.

I am so grateful for the love in my life. For my amazing, beautiful, healthy children. For my loving husband. For friends and family. For the wonderful people in my practice. For my staff and support network.

For hugs. For little moments of laughter. And for the certainty I have when I am fully present to my life and those in it that all that matters is good.

A few weeks ago Audra lost another tooth. And as a dedicated believer in all things magic – in her 8-year-old world, the Tooth Fairy continues to visit.

Don’t get me wrong – she has been around other kids (non-believers) for several years, and has obviously been presented with the notion that parents play the roles of magical entities like the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. But our think-for-herself little girl has decided that she still believes. And we’ll leave it at that. As I stated in an earlier blog, I consider this to be a choice in believing that all things are possible. Which to me is one thing that is severely lacking in our world – and a spirit that we choose to keep alive and well in our household.

As for the Tooth Fairy, I have to admit my repeated guilt in going to bed on a ‘tooth fairy night’ without giving it another thought. But it came crashing back in the morning, when I was faced (yet again) with a concerned-looking little girl because she didn’t find anything under her pillow. I sent her back in to look, while quietly rummaging in my purse for some change to slip under the pillow – planning yet again to make up for the tooth fairy’s tardiness. And with a shout of joy upon finding the toonie that ‘somehow’ ended up under the other pillow on side of her bed, I thought I was in the clear.

But no. Not this time. “Mommy, why doesn’t the tooth fairy ever take my teeth?”, she asked. “I don’t know”, I answered, “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” Audra stated emphatically. “I’m going to write the Tooth Fairy a letter so that she comes back and takes my tooth.”

“I really believe in you and if you don’t come and take my tooth and note I will be sad for the rest of my life.”

Ok. So now the stakes were high. Her note went right to my heart, and there was no way I was missing this one. It’s one thing to slip a toonie into her bed with her there – but quite another for her to wake up to see her note still there, untouched. So in I slipped on Night Two to take her tooth and the tooth fairy’s letter. But the hard part was yet to come.

On Night Three when I was tucking her into bed, she started at me with the unrelenting questions: “Mommy, did you take the letter?” “Mommy, I know you took it.” “Mommy, did you take my tooth?” “Tell me the truth.” “I want to know.”

With repeated and incessant questioning, I felt like I was being interrogated. And after ten minutes of denying and deflecting her questions, I started to question myself. Was I insulting her intelligence to continue along this line? Was she truly asking me for the truth, and I was failing her by continuing with a facade? And so I took a deep breath, and answered her repeated questions with my own: “Do you really want to know?” “YES!” she said decidedly. (And even then I hesitated) “Isn’t it more fun to believe?” I tried. “I WANT TO KNOW.” she replied.

And so I did it. I told her “Yes, I took the letter you wrote the Tooth Fairy, and the tooth you left with it.” I held my breath, wondering what she would say. And it was awful. She crumbled – she cried like her heart was broken. When Dean came in to see what was going on, she cried to him that I took her letter and tooth, and I felt even worse. With guilty ache in my chest, I left the room, leaving Dean to deal with our distraught daughter.

Fortunately, Dean and I are on the same page when it comes to these matters. We want our kids to believe that all things are possible. Especially if those beliefs give them a sense of wonder and amazement. We feel that our kids have a very firm grasp of reality – and that a little dose of magic adds to their lives.

As for me – do I believe in fairies?Yes. I do. I have never seen one. I don’t know if they exist in this world. Maybe once upon a time. Maybe in another dimension. Maybe they only live in our vivid imaginations. But I do believe that thoughts are real, and that anything that we can imagine can exist.

And that’s exactly what we told her. As for the situation at hand, I gave her back the tooth and the letter. I admitted that I took it because I didn’t want her to be disappointed. I told her that I didn’t know if the Tooth Fairy would come for it or not.

And this is what she wrote:

I’m sure that we dealt with this differently than some parents would. I’m also sure that we believe things differently than some people do (maybe most.)

We are truthful when we tell our kids that we live in a world of wonder and mystery – and that not all of life is explainable. We feel it is a choice to believe in things that we cannot see or touch or even prove. For us, it is simply an exercise in keeping our minds open to all possibilities.

I think we all left this experience fulfilled. Ultimately, we were giving Audra the option to choose what she wanted to believe. And I, for one, am glad that she chose to believe in magic.

If my life was a road race, I think right now I would be on one of those deceiving hills – not too steep to look daunting, but deceptively long and hard. And just like a race, if you stop mid-hill, it takes a lot more energy to get moving again. The top isn’t usually in sight, and when you look back, sometimes it looks almost flat. “Why does this seem so hard?” you may wonder; “When will I reach the top?” And “I wish I could just coast right now.”

Truthfully, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t feel this way sometimes. Sometimes it feels like a marathon, and sometimes it feels like a sprint. Either way, the best way I’ve found to keep moving forward is to take a look at where you are, how far you’ve come, and keep sight of where you’re going and why you want to get there.

In my life right now, I am feeling kind of tired. I am missing my Nova Scotia family – and don’t know yet when I’ll see them all next. My practice feels quiet – and I like to be busy. Even my crossfit workouts feel sluggish. As a matter of fact, in all 6 of the workouts I’ve done in the past 2 weeks, I’ve had to combat a very loud voice that says “I don’t want to do this. I should just stop.” (complete with excuses for myself of why that would be ok) But stopping just isn’t an option – not in my mind. And I consider excuses to be a complete waste of energy.

And so – I am taking the advice of a great mentor of mine: “When you question if you are making a difference, or whether you are succeeding in certain areas of your life – just look for the evidence to the contrary.” (Thanks Arno!)

There is, in fact, a rhyme to my reason. There is a reason our bedtime routine starts with me asking my kids what they did well that day. It’s because there will be days that coming up with an answer to that question feels hard – and those days are the ones that it is even more important that we take stock of where we are winning. Even if it’s in the small things.

I’m not advocating living life with your head in the sand, avoiding problems, or taking no action. No – rather, I am advocating putting your time and attention on those things that are working – the areas of your life where you are ‘winning’ – simply to keep you in the mindset for succeeding. This then lends itself well to taking action that will eventually lead you out of that place/problem/mental funk.

If I look back in time, I can easily see that what feels like a quiet day in practice now would have been a busy day in practice 2 years ago. I can see that in the ten years since I graduated chiropractic college, we’ve grown in leaps and bounds. Our family has grown, our interests have broadened, our successes have been many (as have been the challenges). Even with crossfit, two years ago I couldn’t have lifted what I did today – regardless of whether it was fast or slow.

If I look at where I am winning today, I can appreciate the dedicated families who make time to come out to our workshops; revel in the excitement of having next week’s mom’s group full to capacity; and for the many couples booked for our prenatal class that is still over a month away. I can look at the kids and teenagers who lay down on my table for their adjustments, and appreciate that I have known many of them since they were babies and toddlers. I can look at the families I take care of and see all of the ways in which I get to play a role in their lives.

I can look at my family, and see Ethan and Audra’s happy, healthy faces. I can be grateful for the fact that Ethan still lets me hug and kiss him in the schoolyard, and for Audra’s warm little hand in mine as we walk home from school. I can be grateful for Dean, who loves me even when I feel like I am a roller coaster. I can be grateful for our dog Casey – especially when a year ago we thought we might be losing her. I can be grateful for those big things – and the small: a roof over our head, good quality food in our bellies, and the appreciation for the quality time we get to share together.

So, on the days that I feel like life is all uphill, I take the time to get present to all the ways I am winning. In the big ways and small moments. And I know I find it when I start to feel gratitude. In gratitude everything flows better.

Yes, I have to keep moving, but maybe – just maybe – one day I will look back on these moments to see that these days were the ones that made all the difference. And when I ‘reach the top’ – it will be that much more worthwhile.

Today was a very rare day, and to be honest, it’s left me feeling a little like a cork bobbing along with the current, relaxed but ungrounded. I think it’s because I chose to let myself completely derail today, taking a break from anything that would normally hit the radar on my to-do list.

It just so happens that Dean headed north to our friends‘ cottage with the kids, and I have to wait until I finish work tomorrow to go. So it is a distinct possibility that my laisser-faire approach to today may be my adult version of pouting and stomping my feet.

Do I mind being on my own for the day? No – actually, there are many days that I revel in my moments of solitude. Do I mind that I work on Saturday mornings? No – in actual fact, the busy, family-filled Saturdays are amongst my most fun days in practice. But the truth is that I would prefer to be at the lake, with my kids, and with my husband.

And so – in defiance of my to-do list, today I indulged myself. Perhaps it was from reading my colleague’s blog about fighting guilty feelings when she’s with her kids and not at work. Or my other colleague’s blog that reminded me that I need to heed the signs of when I need to stop and recharge my batteries.

But while these both made me pause and think, the reality is that it pushed my comfort levels more to completely stop than it would have pushed them to be more productive. Being busy is the normal pace of my life. Sitting still when there are things that need doing – well, that pushes my comfort zone. But despite my plate that is brimming with busyness and responsibilities, today, I chose to shirk it all.

My day started with a challenging workout. Maybe pushing my limits there, with the mix of high-rep back squats, heavy (!) kettlebell swings and box jumps, I exceeded my daily quotient for going hard. By the time I arrived home, the house was deserted – and other than washing up a few dishes, I headed to the back yard with a book and the computer. I spent some time uploading photos (and definitely too much time on Facebook) before heading inside to get our hammock.

From there, my decision was made. I read and napped in the hammock, with the sounds of the nearby marsh life keeping the peace and a wonderful breeze keeping me comfortable. I ordered sushi, and enjoyed it while watching a movie on the gazebo.

I watched a movie on a sunny day in the middle of the afternoon…that sounds so … well…. LAZY…. that I’m almost embarrassed to write it! (I guess I do have some self-judgment over my level of non-doing, self indulgence today.) Like I said, this pushed my comfort zone, possibly more than I thought. I will admit that there is still a small but present voice in my head listing all of the things I ‘should have done’, and all of the ways I could have been productive.

However, I chose to listen to a different voice today. One that said that it was okay to chill out, unplug and have a completely unstructured, unplanned, and unproductive day. It wasn’t easy for me to do, but I did. And I think that is it possible that being able to stop and be unproductive may have been a win for me today. It wouldn’t match my overall life goals to do this as a routine – but for a day? Could it hurt? Or maybe – just maybe – could it be good for me?! Is it possible that having a day without productivity could be exactly what I need to keep my normal pace? (or maybe to show me that the world doesn’t stop when I sit still?)

With this in mind, and in keeping with my theme, I rounded out my day with a leisurely stroll in the bright evening sun, got my hair cut, and topped it off with picking up some homemade sorbet from the local gelato shop.

Right now it’s waiting for me, calling my name. I plan to savour it while I finish watching my movie on the gazebo. Sans guilt.

May 4th is Audra’s birthday. I just don’t know where time goes. How is it possible that it’s been 8 years?

It’s funny how it is almost impossible to remember life before kids. And I don’t mean what I did, or what life was like – that I remember just fine (and with an extra dose of gratitude for how ‘easy’ things were then!) I mean that it defies my brain’s capacity to remember what life was like – and what the meaning of my life was – before our children entered into it.

Was my life meaningless without them? Absolutely not. Would I have made less of a difference without becoming a mom? No – not that, either. But for me, the depth of love, sacrifice, and the all-encompassing richness of life that comes from having a child to adore, nurture, and watch grow is something that words can’t do justice to.

I once heard it explained that words are part of the physical plane, whereas emotions are part of the energetic plane. And while the two overlap – it makes it very difficult to describe the power of love and gratitude – which are intangible vibrations and energies – with a thing like a word. It is one reason I fill my days with hugs and smiles – envisioning my love like a tidal wave that washes over our kids, infusing them with the high vibration of love and all of its infinite possibilities.

I am quite certain it was because of being a mom for the second time around that I had an inkling of how much love and joy and laughter another baby would bring into our lives. We actually welcomed the challenges of life with a newborn – despite knowing that we were in for some busy times. I was not quite sure how I would manage with a newborn and a not-quite-2-year-old -and no family around to help out in the busyness of daily life. But somehow we did. I am sure we were not perfect, but I am beginning to think that maybe nothing ever is. And like I’ve said – I think it is possible that keeping my sanity during those busy years with babies and toddlers, while starting my chiropractic practice, and entering this new territory of family life may just be one of the pinnacles of my life’s greatest accomplishments.

So as I reflect on Audra – my baby. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways? I doubt that any words can truly do it justice. (But here goes):

Audra: My black & white child, my feisty little girl – you were born knowing what you wanted, and how to get it. You burst into our lives like a flame. And from that very first moment I held you in my arms, I was completely smitten. Googly-eyed, over-the-top in love.

You are so beautiful in every possible way. You are smart, funny, loving, thoughtful, generous, creative, artistic, athletic, determined, strong, caring, happy, and brave. You are my daughter, and I am as proud of you as a mom can be. I am grateful every minute of every day for being your mom. I am excited to see where you go in your life, what adventures you will have, and what wonderful things you will do.

My wonderful girl – I love you with every part of my being. You will always be my baby. Whether you are 8 years old. Or 98.

Sleep, oh glorious Sleep. I apologize for all of the years I took you for granted. I wish I could have banked all of the extra hours of leisurely sleep I enjoyed before life got busy and kids entered our world. I acknowledge and appreciate you for the power you have to help me be my best: full of energy, adventure, productivity, resourcefulness and patience. I thank you for all of the years I had in the past without needing makeup to cover the tired circles under my eyes. And please, come visit me again – often. I’ll admit it: I’m just not my best without you.

I find it somewhat ironic that I am noticing a lack of sleep these days. After all those early years of sleep deprivation, I am somewhat shocked to realize that I could ever again be guilty of taking sleep for granted. (something I swore I would never do) After the challenges we had during our baby-years, I think I must remind myself again of what a glorious thing it is to sleep deeply and wake well-rested.

The big difference is that nowadays, the majority of my need for sleep can be fairly placed on my own shoulders – a product of my own choices: staying up with my night-hawk husband, enjoying the occasional social time with friends, and a preference to be an early bird in the mornings. However, I am noticing the toll it is taking as my focus, mood, physical strength and energy wane, and my desire to be productive has all but disappeared. I think my highest desire today is to have a great nap. I’m even grateful for the grey day outside, as it lends itself well to curling up under the covers. And so here I find myself daydreaming about sleep – while my sleepy mind brings me back in time to when sleep was a daily challenge.

Perhaps I now appreciate a good sleep, simply because I heavily paid my dues when our kids were younger and I was chronically sleep-deprived. After all, over three years of rarely having more than 2 hours of sleep strung together will take its toll. Looking back, I wonder how I managed to function, let alone keep our kids safe, fed, clothed and happy. It completely escapes me how I managed to start and build my practice, or even carry on coherent conversations during that time.

An awesome kid (and amazing sleeper now), Ethan may just have been the worst-sleeping baby I have ever known. Despite being a very happy baby, he absolutely hated sleep, and would fight it like no tomorrow. Even in arms, he cried every time he had to go to sleep. (I’m not sure what he thought he was missing!) I am quite certain he almost caused our friends to question whether or not to have kids. In the very least, I know for a fact that they prayed to please not have a baby like that in the sleeping department. He was a sleeping nightmare – and the only way I could get any sleep to be able to function in daylight hours was to sleep with him. Our bedtime routine involved me laying to down to nurse him – with both of us drifting off to sleep, a routine that we revisited frequently through the night. Chiropractor/Mommy by Day, All-Night Milk Bar by night. (which made a mid-day nap an absolute necessity)

By the time Audra was born, we had already put in months of effort to get Ethan to sleep well, and on his own. Our efforts paid off – and he gradually became a great-sleeping toddler. Co-sleeping took on a new form – like early morning cuddles to give us an extra hour in bed, or for naps when either Dean or I wanted one, too. With time, our sleep challenges transitioned purely into precious moments.

Being parents the second-time around, we vowed that we would do things differently with Audra – putting more effort in to teach her to self-soothe, nurse only when hungry, and that we would put her down when she was getting sleepy. And I think we did a better job… but she was a born cuddler, melting her sweet, warm body onto mine so deliciously that even when I had something to do, I was often loathe to put her down. (And Dean was equally, if not more guilty of this. I’d often come home from work to find him on the computer, with Audra in a deep sleep in his arms. He’d answer my ‘look’ with a sheepish grin, acknowledging that “she was just so cuddly”.) And I am happy to say that she is still as wonderfully cuddly today, almost eight years later.

In fact, I choose to think that our tendency to hold our babies and sleep with them helped shape them as the very affectionate, hug-loving children that they are today. I am happy to say that both Ethan and Audra choose to give us hugs in the school yard – a rarity these days in many grade school kids. And many comments have come our way about the enthusiastic cries of joy and running hugs Dean gets when picking our kids up from camp or the after-school program. So whether it was the extra cuddles as babies, or a mix of a whole lot of things over the years – we appreciate every indication of how ingrained our children are to show their love and affection.

Suffice it to say that our intention was to have children who were well-adjusted, and who felt loved, comforted, and well-rested – with healthy associations with sleep to boot. With time, this came. Our children transitioned to their own rooms and beds, with easy bedtime routines. They were not afraid of the dark, never had nightmares or night terrors, and rarely woke in the middle of the night. However, it took us years to get there. Perhaps we could have had that from the beginning. I’m the first to admit that I am no expert in the baby-sleeping arena. However, I am grateful for the end result, regardless of how long it took us to get there. Looking back on it, the difficulties we had with sleep have blurred. I can no longer feel the frustration – although I know that I had lots of it.

Instead, my selective mommy memory remembers the feel of a fully content, deeply sleeping baby in my arms. I remember curling my body into theirs as we co-slept. I remember the joy of waking up and seeing the peacefully sleeping faces of my healthy babes. I remember being woken to smiling babies who wanted to bounce, play and giggle with the early morning rays. I remember the inexplicable joy of being skin-to-skin with my babies, feeling them breathe, feeling their tiny hearts beating, and looking at them in amazement for the miracles that they are. I remember feeling absolutely overwhelming waves of love, mingled with a fierce sense of protection, and my desire to give them every bit of myself and every opportunity in the world. I remember my mommy-heart singing for joy and overflowing love – despite the fatigue. Somehow in those moments, tiredness disappeared and all that mattered was the love I had for my children.

And so, these days when I don’t sleep well, it’s usually for relatively short periods of time – a night or a week, rather than for years on end. It’s usually due to a combination of a busy life with lots on my plate, an aging dog who sometimes wants to go out at random times of the night, and rarely because of our kids.

And yet, I can say with all honesty that it is possible that some of the best moments of my life were wrapped up in those times that I was not sleeping. Maybe it was nature’s way of making sure I didn’t get so busy as to forget the little moments that mean everything.

As I sit and write this, a part of me wishes I could flash back in time, just for a moment to experience those moments again, challenging though they were. They pass so quickly. And all of the sudden, my need for sleep has dissipated. Instead, it is filled with the need to be present to the moments in front of me. While I may indeed still find time for a nap today, one thing I know for sure is this: I will enjoy every minute I have with my kids today. Because I realize that one day, years from now, I will look back on days like today – and see them for perfect moments in time. Instead of remembering that I was tired, I will remember the sounds of their laughter, and the memories of the time we spend together – fully present to the only things that truly matter.

(And I could laugh out loud that I thought I was writing about my need to sleep… )

Like this:

With March Break finished, it was back to routine Monday morning. Admittedly, a week without the extra task of making lunches was wonderfully liberating – especially when combined with a relaxed schedule, days off for all of us, and lots of family times and activities.

I don’t know if it was the contrast between those relaxed starts to the day, or if Monday was really that chaotic, but the process of getting us out the door felt like complete mayhem.

It’s never a good sign if I need to wake Ethan or Audra up. Or if I have moved on from my sitting-down-enjoying-a-coffee time – which is usually when Audra crawls out of bed to cuddle sleepily on my lap as I finish my journalling. No matter what I am doing, she needs to start her day with a long, slow cuddle. (while somewhat inconvenient at times, it’s really quite wonderful)

Some of the sights a passerby would have seen included me trying to start breakfast with Audra in my arms for her morning cuddle – not an easy feat, as she weighs 50 pounds and prevents me from being the whirlwind of activity I intend to be. Or opening the door to the bathroom – expecting to see Ethan dressed after his shower – and instead seeing him sprawled on the floor in a near-catatonic state. “Huh?” he exclaimed sleepily when I expressed my distress – as if he had forgotten altogether that the following his shower the idea was to was to then get dressed…

In the kitchen, I was like a character out of mythology – eight arms going in different directions. Breakfast cooking on the stove (bacon, eggs and potato/veggie hash) – while making lunches (homemade soup heating on the stove, filling lunch containers with diced chicken salad, fruit, yogurt and filling water bottles) – and attempting to clean as I went (which really didn’t happen).

All of this peppered with trips to the laundry room to find clean clothes from the unfolded clothes hampers, letting out the dog, and getting myself ready to go to my workout. Oh – and to eat, of course. And defrost the car.

By the time all was said and done, I was less like the eight-armed creature, and more like the tasmanian devil – complete with temper. Audra was in tears (I snapped when she insisted she couldn’t use my brush – and hers was missing. A brush is a brush, isn’t it?!) And I had threatened Ethan that I was going to charge him money if he wasn’t dressed and at the breakfast table in 30 seconds (his catatonic state evaporated immediately – since he’s been saving money for a lego set for the last 10 months, and is almost there, this threat – while possibly not the nicest parenting technique – lit a fire under him)

Dean thinks I should wake them earlier and get them started sooner on their routine. The kids don’t like this idea, or the one of making lights-out time earlier on school nights. But the issue isn’t really one of tiredness usually – it’s of doing what they are expected to do. (And of course, they never seem to give him as hard a time. It seems to be mostly a mom-thing. *sigh*)

They used to get a weekly allowance, but one of their expected behaviours was to get ready quickly and without fuss on school mornings. And so I took their allowances away in the mayhem that followed Christmas break. They must have agreed it was chaos, because they never once complained. I guess they are aware that our mornings are often less than stellar. If we plotted out most likely times for me to lose my cool, it would be heavily skewed to be on school mornings. (definitely not cool)

We’ve tried lots of things to get our mornings to flow better – and I know it’s always hardest right after any break from routine. The thing is, I get up at 6 every day so that I can start my day the way I want: I do some movement/mobility work, journalling, writing, reading, setting my goals and intentions for the day. And to follow my awesome “power hour” with potential craziness just doesn’t mesh quite right.

If I recall correctly, we were in a much better flow before the break. Maybe it’s just the transition – I just hope it’s a quick one. Like already over and done with. Maybe I need to add to my daily intentions to have an easy, happy, get-the-kids-out-the-door experience.

I’d much rather send them off to school with the image of a smiling, sunshine-y kind of mom.

Maybe we’ll start today.

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The lofty side of this is that I am a mom on a mission. I am striving to create a better world by being the best, most inner-directed mother I know how to be. The other side of this is that I became a mom.... on purpose. Meaning, I chose this. But man, it can be hard.

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The lofty side of this is that I am a mom on a mission. I am striving to create a better world by being the best, most inner-directed mother I know how to be. The other side of this is that I became a mom... on purpose. Meaning, I chose this. But man, it can be hard.